It Burns, Tears of Disappointment

The freckles remind me of my mother,
which also makes me cry.

I hate watching people cry. Not because I'm unsympathetic, but because I could cry about the same things they are.

I'm emotional and sensitive, defensive; I have a constantly rebuilding self-esteem that is fragile, but I don't have low self-esteem.
I watched someone I care about cry for the same reasons I have, and I almost cried myself.
They cried because life didn't meet their expectations.
They cried like I have "when I grow up" never happened.
"I wanna be like" never happened.
The life they thought they would have never happened.
And the walls of their façades came tumbling down.
With the ghetto, and the homeless, and the drugs, the sex, and the rock and roll peeking like sunlight through the cracks.

Their foundation so sturdy with the love they once knew of life,

And their walls still came crashing down.

Its over, believe it.

A synonym for life is career.

Why is it so hard to find a career if I'm living one everyday.

Walking around in my career everyday.

My purpose.

Is hidden behind a mask of distortion.

Not always being unveiled to show what I wanted, but what I needed to do to get by.

Getting by is stupid, pointless, meaningless.

Turning life from a career into just a job.

But that's not life by definition.

I'm going somewhere, and nowhere fast if I give up.

Giving up is so easy.

Merely existing is so easy.

Being is active living.

I want to be as active in this life as possible.

I will be an active adult, "when I grow up",

Because that life is still possible.